


Return to Dust

by Void_of_Self



Category: Nabari no Ou
Genre: Bittersweet, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Terminal Illnesses, suicidal thoughts (canon-level)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29775948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Void_of_Self/pseuds/Void_of_Self
Summary: He wants to be close to Yoite so much that it hurts. If he could, he would crawl into Yoite, merge with his flesh and soul until they became one being. Maybe that way, they would be a whole person capable of living a normal life.
Relationships: Rokujou Miharu & Yoite, Rokujou Miharu/Yoite
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: r/Darkfics Monthly Prompt Challenge





	Return to Dust

Miharu watches Yoite whenever the latter isn't looking; Yoite's emaciated form, his pale, papery skin and lacklustre black hair keep drawing Miharu's eyes like a magnet. Or maybe like a fatal car crash one passes by slowly, unable not to look despite knowing they shouldn't, that what they will see will likely hurt them or scare them, give them nightmares. Make them feel small and impotent against the ultimate terror that is death.

Yoite is dying. He keeps moving his broken body, pushing himself beyond what should be physically possible, just so Miharu can attain control of the Shinrabansho and finally grant Yoite's last and only wish - to disappear from the world completely, as if he'd never lived. Yoite's desire for erasure of his own existence is both foreign and painfully familiar to Miharu.

In essence, he and Yoite are the same - both searching for something to free them from the weight of existing as they are, burdened by their past and the unending expectations of others. And yet, when they are alone together, the world seems to spin to a different tune - the sun warm and welcome on their cheeks, their hands soft where they touch and hold on, their bone-deep exhaustion merely fatigue that requires nothing more than simple sleep.

The time they spend together on the run is the happiest Miharu remembers being in a long while. They sleep wherever they can find shelter - in a barn, a train station waiting room, even out in the open air, making use of the sun to keep warm. One evening, a sweet old lady invites them to her home, cooks them a simple yet filling dinner and lets them have the single bed in her son's long-abandoned room.

It's a perfect evening, marred only by Yoite's body collapsing yet again, unable to retain sustenance. Miharu has to scramble for a bucket to catch Yoite's sick before it gets all over the bed. He holds Yoite's forehead with one hand, his thin chest with the other, kneeling behind Yoite and keeping him steady as he heaves and expels all its contents until only bile is coming out in painful but thankfully subsiding contractions, mixed with saliva and tinged with streaks of blood.

When Yoite's stomach finally gives up on emptying itself, Miharu helps him lie down, then goes to empty the bucket, He brings back a glass of cold water, pouring some on a mostly clean handkerchief he finds in his pocket and softly wiping the sweat and specks of vomit from Yoite's face. He tries to get him to drink some water and Yoite manages a few sips before he crumbles into Miharu, so Miharu can do nothing but lay him back down.

Making quick work of brushing his teeth and using the bathroom, Miharu gets into bed alongside Yoite who is now sleeping, still pale but relaxed, no longer in pain. Turning towards Yoite so they are facing each other, Miharu gently brushes Yoite's black fringe from his forehead, trailing the tips of his fingers along the sunken cheek and sharp jaw, then covers Yoite's blackened hand with his own, letting his fingers slip between Yoite's.

Most of the corruption caused by the Kira technique isn't visible, of course. Yoite temporarily goes blind whenever he uses it these days, or loses his sense of smell or touch in his fingertips. He has long since stopped tasting anything he puts in his mouth. He can hardly keep down food and liquids, coughs up blood and sleeps too much. His hands always feel cold, and Miharu loves to hold them and feel them on his skin, their coolness seeping into his warmth and making the sensation last long after they have returned to Yoite's sides or pockets. Miharu likes to carry the sensation of Yoite with him when they're not touching.

Very slowly, eyes on Yoite's sleeping face, Miharu bends towards their intertwined hands and kisses the blackened fingertips one by one. He can tell that Yoite doesn't feel it, for his breathing remains unchanged and he doesn't twitch like he normally would in face of such intimacy. The black skin doesn't feel any different from normal skin. Miharu slips the tip of his tongue past his lips and over a fingertip. It has the same minutely textured fleshy feel one would expect, and the same slightly salty taste.

He briefly imagines sucking and lightly biting into Yoite's finger before releasing it from his mouth with a sigh. He wants to be close to Yoite so much that it hurts. If he could, he would crawl into Yoite, merge with his flesh and soul until they became one being. Maybe that way, they would be a whole person capable of living a normal life. Holding the thought of being joined with Yoite, Miharu finally succumbs to sleep.

He dreams of chasing after Yoite through dimly lit streets filled with a faceless crowd surrounding him and impeding his movements. Whenever he pushes past the stick figures in pursuit of the glimpses of Yoite from afar, he ends up running into dead ends, staring at brick or concrete walls that are impossible to break or scale, knowing that Yoite is just on the other side and slowly fading away. And yet Miharu perseveres, determined to reach Yoite even if he has to backtrack and wade through the mass of bodies again and again. Yoite is what keeps him moving forward; he is his guiding principle, his mirror self. He wants to know all of Yoite, even if just for an instant before he has to let him go.

And Miharu gets his wish, when Yoite dies and turns into dust in his arms much too soon afterwards, content to have been alive and loved, to have been known as Yoite. Sometime later, Miharu makes a wish that nobody knows about, not even himself - not anymore. He wakes up after sleeping for a month, the only remnant of Yoite a lingering, ever-present absence - two words combined that can't make sense and yet they do.

Miharu doesn't know why he suddenly likes to let his hands cool down in the cold air or water. Or why he places them on his cheeks, with fingers spread and fingertips placed over his slightly opened lips. And if he sometimes darts out his tongue, as if expecting the skin to taste differently than it always does, he doesn't question the impulse, nor the warm comfort the usual, slightly salty taste gives him. 

There is a thread connecting him to something - or someone - that's missing. Perhaps one day he will try to remember.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the February Darkfic Writing Challenge, using the following prompts:
> 
> Words: bucket, corruption  
> Song: Hangar 18 by Megadeth  
> (lyrics used: _walls that are impossible to break_ ; _two words combined that can't make sense_ )


End file.
